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He crossed his arms over his chest, trying to look stern, even as heat rose to his cheeks. He could feel the embarrassment blooming and fought the urge to smile.

“No—you are thinking mahogany . Monotony is when something is boring, and Monogamy is when you are in a dedicated relationship—which we are not. We just met… now you have to stop making me laugh because I’m dying over here and had no idea you were so funny. Now, back to Quebec?”

Her attempt to redirect landed like a life raft in a sea of his own confusion.

“We are in a dedicated relationship,” Jett said firmly, still frowning. His voice had steadied, his confidence returning. “I expect fidelity.” He waited, bracing for another round of laughter—but this time, it didn’t come. “I will be faithful to you and expect you to be the same. We made vows.”

She softened instantly. “Relax,” she said, smiling in that way that made his stomach flutter—gentle, kind, and understanding all at once. “I’m not the type to cheat on someone. Besides, I’d be more worried about you doing the cheating than me.”

“Why?” His brow lifted.

“Because you look like a guy who likes to party.”

“I do—but that doesn’t mean I’m a cheater.”

“No, I know,” she said with a sigh as if she was both reassured and overwhelmed. “We were going to talk about Quebec?”

He nodded, trying not to let how much that sigh mattered to him show.

“I got a job, we’re moving. You aren’t expected to work because I can pay for us to have a very nice life together, and I expect fidelity,” he repeated, still a little wounded but also trying to lighten the mood.

“Take time to explore the city, have some fun, and don’t forget our coffee dates. ”

“And that’s it?” she asked skeptically.

“Pretty much.”

“Be your wife—on paper—and meet up for coffee dates, but other than that, I’m free to do whatever I want in the city?”

“Yup.”

“And if I wanted to spend hours studying old societies and buildings?”

“Go for it,” he said, surprised by the revelation—and yet, as he looked at her, it made sense. Of course, she would like that.

Of course, she would lose herself in quiet corners of museums or ancient streets lined with stories. She was bookish. Brilliant. Entirely opposite of him.

And yet… she was his.

At least, he hoped she would be.

“Do you like sports?” he asked, his voice laced with a mixture of curiosity and quiet hope as if her answer could somehow bridge the vast differences between them.

Jett leaned forward slightly, studying her face with the kind of intensity he usually reserved for reading the ice.

He wasn’t sure why her opinion mattered so much, but it did.

Every new thing he learned about her felt like sliding another piece into the complicated puzzle of who she was—and maybe, just maybe, who they could be together.

“Not in the slightest,” she retorted without missing a beat, scrunching up her nose in distaste. Then she paused, softening slightly. “I mean, if it’s what you enjoy, then I am happy for you and hope you have lots of fun doing sporty stuff.”

Jett grinned at her choice of words— sporty stuff —but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He took a breath and asked, “Would you attend my hockey games?”

She blinked, looking up from whatever she’d been jotting down. “Is it required?”

The words landed like a slap, not because they were cruel but because they were so indifferent. He schooled his face quickly, but not before the sting of disappointment surfaced. It was a stupid thing to want—he knew that—but deep down, it mattered.

Most guys on the team dreamed about seeing their girl in the stands, decked out in their jersey, cheering them on like they were the center of the world.

He hadn’t even let himself think about that with Karen, hadn’t dared to picture her in one of his oversized jerseys or laughing in the rink’s freezing bleachers.

But now the image tried to form anyway, only to be chased off by her dispassionate response.

“Not if you didn’t want to go,” he said, forcing a shrug, the words stiff in his mouth. He told himself it was fine, that he wasn’t the kind of guy who needed someone on the sidelines clapping for him. But the truth was, he wanted to matter to his new wife—even in that small way.

“Good. I would not require you to attend a symposium regarding the surprising anthropological finds of the first settlers that is currently touring the nation.”

He blinked, part of him amused, the rest trying to keep up with her sentence. “I only understood half that sentence,” he chuckled, trying to break the tension with a joke, hoping she’d laugh with him. Instead, she just stared at him, a flicker of something unreadable in her eyes.

Dismay?

Disappointment?

Jett’s smile faltered. Was that how she saw him?

A dumb jock who didn’t belong in her world of lectures and research and complicated words?

Maybe he wasn’t a genius, but he wasn’t an idiot either.

He felt the weight of the space between them, not just physically but mentally and emotionally.

Was that the reason she kept her distance?

The reason she hadn’t touched him or kissed him or looked at him like he was someone worth falling for?

He glanced away, jaw tightening, heart a little sore. Most women practically tripped over themselves to be near him, to flirt, to get invited into his bed.

With Karen, it was different.

She didn’t chase—didn’t even seem all that interested—and heaven help him, that made him want her more. And strangely, that thrilled him. A challenge. A woman who didn’t fall for the usual tricks.

He almost grinned again, nearly rubbing his hands together like he did before a big game. She was a puzzle, and he wanted to solve her.

“I thought we could look at the condos my agent sent via email,” he offered, shifting gears before his thoughts ran too deep.

Keep it casual.

Keep it together.

“Pick what you want,” she said simply, not looking up at first as she scribbled something in her notebook. Then her gaze lifted. “No pets, right?”

“No.”

“Good. I didn’t want to have to worry about something shredding my books.”

And she went back to writing down something as he sat there.

He wasn’t even sure when it had happened, but he was becoming attracted to this woman before him—every time she glanced away, every time she frowned in thought, every time she made him laugh without even trying.

It felt like a pull he didn’t understand but was helpless to fight.

He just didn’t know how to reach Karen, how to cross the distance she always seemed to keep between them.

So he tried the only thing he could think of—keep her talking.

Try to bridge the gap with words, with plans, with anything that might give him a little more time in her presence instead of having her focus on him instead of elsewhere.

“So, then, you want a condo with a library or office?” he hedged, trying to sound casual. He watched her stop mid-scribble, eyes flicking up to meet his. She looked startled, as if she hadn’t expected him to ask, hadn’t even realized he was watching her so closely.

“What are you writing down?” he asked gently, curiosity laced with something warmer.

“Me?” she asked, clearly surprised.

“Yeah, you.”

Her pen stilled, and she glanced back at the paper beneath her hands. “Um, well, I’m writing down a few things to put in order. There’s giving my notice, the condo, movers, a new driver’s license. I’m assuming you have a work Visa… or a green card?”

Her tone was so practical, so calm and level, while all he could think about was the fact that she was really considering this.

She was listing things out. Making a plan for them.

A part of her—some hidden, hopeful part—was already stepping into this strange little future they’d agreed on out of the blue.

“They don’t give hockey players credit cards,” he replied with a chuckle, trying to lighten the mood, only to see her expression flatten. Serious. Sharp. Gosh, she had a way of making him feel like a kid who hadn’t done his homework.

Gimmie my dunce cap and move on…

“You’re kidding, right? It’s not a credit card but permission to live in Quebec, another country, because you are an American citizen.”

“Oh yeah, I knew that.”

“Sure you did.”

“My agent and the team will handle everything.”

She gave him a look that made him feel like he’d missed something important again. It wasn’t that he didn’t care. He just didn’t live in details the way she did. She lived in the real world—he lived in a locker room and on the ice.

“Just like you don’t care what I do, so long as we are married – and why do you have to be married to get this job?”

He hesitated, searching her face, trying to find the right way to say it. In the end, he just told her the truth.

“Contract.”

“Did you ever think that maybe it was an illegal and unethical clause you could fight in a court of law?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because I like you, and I think I could like being married to you.”

There it was—laid bare, raw, and simple. No defenses, no excuses. Just the truth, the one thing he had to offer that might actually mean something.

“Just like that?”

“Pretty much. I’m an easygoing guy.”

Her silence stretched, and for a moment, panic flared in his chest. He’d said too much or not enough. He didn’t know. He never knew with her. She was always thinking, always calculating, and he was just… him. A guy with a puck, a stick, and a heart that wouldn’t shut up when she was near.

Then she looked at him— really looked at him—with that gaze that always made him feel like she saw more than he wanted her to; like she could reach in and flip all the switches inside him without even trying.

He shivered as her eyes pinned him in place, his chest tightening under the weight of her silence.

And then— then —she sighed.

“Let’s look at the condos because yes, I would like a library or an office.”

It was a yes. It was her yes.

“Sweet,” he grinned, the tension breaking like sunlight through storm clouds. He bolted from his seat, nearly tripping over his own feet in his rush to grab the iPad. “I want a gym, a hot tub, and a cold plunge. This is gonna be great, Karen – I swear.”

He meant it.